Quotes About Whiplash

There hung about her the restrained energy of a whiplash.

All too often, ambulance-chasing has been simple fraud. People are encouraged to launch a claim for whiplash when no one has been injured. Phone calls ask you to claim for accidents that never happened.

Death isn't enough. It doesn't remove the stain. But a slap, a whiplash, square on the face, does. Because a man's face is as sacred as his mother or his wife.

I'd only met him once, at the mall. He was tall, with a big floppy shock of blond hair he was always getting out of his face by jerking his head suddenly to the side, whiplash-style. Rina found this incredibly sexy. It made me nervous. - Caitlin about Jeff

It was very, very challenging being on this thing called the gimbal. It would throw you around, give you whiplash, and they'd tie you down.

Death isn't enough. It doesn't remove the stain. But a slap, a whiplash, square on the face, does. Because a man's face is as sacred as his mother or his wife.

In sprint car wrecks, just slam your head against a table a couple times and that's probably what it feels like. You get whiplash, all that stuff.

I was at a party in Alexandra Palace tobogganing on the ski slope, got whiplashed at 40mph, put my hands out to balance myself, and three fingers got caught in the artificial snow. I broke four knuckles. I have not drummed since.

You're whiplash, she whispered.

Whether a film is breaking into song and dance or if it's something like 'Whiplash,' I find it incredibly rewarding, and I'm drawn to those stories with a musical component.

The speed of the TV stuff vs. the self-imposed pace of novel writing has been a big adjustment, and going back and forth often feels like whiplash.

I went. I was not really awake yet, and still suffering from psychological whiplash from my treatment at the hands of Rita and Debs, but I went.

Elle's gaze hadn't left the front door. But holy cow hotness, Batman, really, you want to see this. Why? He's in a suit, that's why. My eyes don't know what to do with themselves. Will whipped around so fast she gave herself whiplash.

Whiplash chatter. That was his Zoey.

She was one of those languid women, made of dark honey, smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture, a toss of the hair, a single slow whiplash of the eyes — and all the while remain as still as the centre of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract themselves the yearnings and the souls of both men and women.